Jacob Slader grips Aarin Asker’s hips, his tattoos dark against the sheet as he fingers him open, while Aarin takes his cock deep into his throat, the yellow pillow pressed into his back. Slader’s beard brushes his jaw as he works him with rough precision, his own hands tangled in Aarin’s hair. The bed creaks under their weight, the only sound the wet, hungry sounds of their mouths and fingers.
